Japanese stories,  poetry

The atomic bomb never defined Nagasaki

This poem doesn’t need explanation, at least if you have visited Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Outside Japan you likely only know these names because of the atomic bomb. This single reductive moment does not define Nagasaki, nor Hiroshima.

Nagasaki is not the bomb

Nagasaki is not the bomb, not a nullified future

No present, obliterated past.

Not mere shadowed imprint

Of fell fire falling in a flash

Not just the runner up in Hiroshima’s winning race,

Hiroshima, where one brilliant August day 

The silver bird dropped Little Boy on children in their play.

A brilliant day just like the one when on the top of Mount Misen 

In Miyajima, as high as birds, we looked down

On Hiroshima across the aching beauty of the  bay 

It must have looked like that, that other sunny day …

But in living Nagasaki, we didn’t find

A peace park at its heart

The city’s heart is by the water

By the bay, where Japan’s locked door was left ajar

Where sailing ships came laden to the Dejima

Carrying goods and things unknown.

Down by the bay, where in Meiji times 

Glover settled and from him

Japan mastered ‘modern’ ways. 

Down by the bay in Nagasaki 

Where samurai exchanged swords for suits

And from the bay they travelled and the world embraced

And when they’d done, home again they came.

Image

Japanese translation of a book of anatomy. Dejima museum, Nagasaki.

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